Before It All Began
by Reflection of My Tears
Summary: He didn't know why any of this was happening to him. He didn't know why his luck had suddenly turned sour. Sort of a pre-manga/anime thing. Please read. Story better than summary!
1. The beginning

**Hi everyone, this is a story thing on Trains thoughts on what happened when his parents died and when Zagine trained him, also when he became The Black Cat, etc. It's sort of like, pre-manga/anime thingy. I hope you like it!**

"Mom! Dad!"

The anguished cry was the only sound that disturbed the eerie silence of the still house. The young child's unusual, cat-like amber eyes were stretched wide, swimming with unshed tears. His messy, spiked chocolate brown hair hung over his face, so the only visible was his glinting eyes.

"Well, it seems that they had a child."

The boy's heart raced even faster and he was starting to feel light-headed at the amount of fear churning inside of him, tying his stomach in knots, flipping it over at the malice that soaked the mans voice. It swept through him, making his knees go weak and his body feel numb. As his mind tried to process what was happening, he felt loneliness, grief and fear kept reasonable thoughts and ideas at bay, refusing to ley any other thought apart from: _I'm going to die, I'm completley alone, _and _I'm going to die!_

"W-Who are y-you?" His voice –that was barely a whisper- cracked as he spoke, or rather, _stammered_. His emotions were spinning out if control-fear, grief, failure, loneliness, guilt and, most importantly, _confusion_. He didn't know why any of this was happening to him. He didn't know why his luck had suddenly turned sour. It felt like all the invisible forces that controlled destiny had turned on him, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. Sure, he'd failed the tests he'd taken when he actually attended school.

The towering the man before him let a sinister grin slide across his face, showing his startling white teeth. The long, tattered black poncho (I know, it sounds girly for Zagine, but that's all I can describe it as) that encased him blew in the slight breeze that blew through the open window. The sound of bullets being loaded into a gun was the only audible sound other than the child's ragged breathing, slightly broken by occasional choked-back sobs that he refused to let out.

His before-open ochre eyes were now tightly screwed shut as tears streamed down his pale cheeks, small shoulders shaking as he silently cried. His senses were blotted out by the emotions churning around his mind, dimming everything around him so it was only when he felt the cold metal of a gun to his forehead did he realize the danger he was in.

Out of all the mixed emotions swirling throughout his confused brain, fear over-powered the rest of them, clouding his once-again opened tawny eyes that were more suitable to a cat. Those almost-sinister-looking orbs glanced at the motionless, blood-soaked bodies of his parents, lying in pools of the same scarlet substance that drenched them. He felt the blood of his parents seep through the bottoms of his worn shoes and bathe his socks, a fresh douse of fear running through his veins, soaking him to the core.

"Do you wanna live or die, kid? The choice is yours."

The young child did not reply, or rather, _couldn't _reply, for he felt as if an anvil was holding his tongue to the floor of his mouth, and he knew that as soon as he parted his lips to utter his answer, the fear that was controlling his mind would snatch away his words as if he had leapt from a plane. Yet one word from his mouth would decide his fate, and there was a lingering question that pushed itself to the front of his mind:_ was it worth living now that his parents were dead, and he was completely alone?_ He opened his mouth to reply, but, as expected, the words he were about to speak had been stolen from him. Not a word was uttered from that quivering child.

A single shot was fired into the still night, and the ghostly silence reigned once again.

**I'm sorry it was short! I'll try better next time, I promise! Only 725 words! I'm ashamed! Don't forget to review!**


	2. The Death of His Goal

**Well, here's the second chappy! I hope you liked the last one, even if it was short. I banged my head on the wall ten times because it was so short! Only 525 words…I'm so ashamed…**

**Disclaimer (Because I forgot to put one in the last chappy): Do you really think I would be writing stories on Fanfic about Black Cat if I owned it??**

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, breath coming in ragged gasps. His amber eyes glared up at the man that loomed above him, almost oozing the venom that he had to restrain within himself every waking second. His messy, spiked chocolate brown bangs fell in front of his face, limiting his vision. His arm felt like lead, as if a scorching hot molten rock was searing through his body. He was sure his head was going to split open at any second, yet he continued to do what the man clad in black had ordered him to do.

"…124…125…126…"

He muttered the number of each one-handed press-up he accomplished with only his thumb. His brain and every muscle in his body was screaming at him to stop, and he hesitated, about to obey, when a smooth, malice-coated voice made him realize the gravity of his situation.

"Stop and I'll blow your arm off."

Just that single sentence was enough to make the boy continue his agonizing torture, breathing becoming shallow and rasping. His arms were bruised and cut, and his face was covered in grime and dirt, an explanation of how he was being treated by the man beside him. His clothes were ripped and almost drenched in sweat, as he had been doing the same thing for almost an hour now, trying to accomplish two-hundred press-ups with only one thumb.

The man, who went by the name of Zagine, was wearing a long, tattered black poncho that covered every part of him except for his head, which had a mop of dirty blonde hair and cruel eyes. The eyes of a killer. He held a pistol in his hand, prepared to shoot the boy's arm off if he stopped or collapsed from exhaustion. He knew that he was a cruel man, and he liked it that way. Perhaps it came from living alone all those years, he would never know.

"Its time for a break."

Zagine's voice was gruff, and held reluctance in its tone, as if he wanted to see more of the poor kid's suffering. The child collapsed on the cold concrete floor, relishing the feeling of the chilling surface, breathing deeply, willing the red-hot pain in his muscles to fade like everything else around him. He lay there for a few minutes, unmoving, and Zagine started to wonder if he was asleep.

"Get up."

The boy pulled himself to his feet at the command, glowering angrily at the man who had put him into such pain. His eyes flashed dangerously, igniting a fresh spark of hatred for the man who had murdered his parents and made is life turned upside down. He wanted nothing more than to kill said man and bring his parents back, to go back to the way things were before he had come along and ruined it.

As he seated himself at the table, a mug was slid in front of him. He eyed the swirling white liquid inside, half-expecting it to leap out and bite him. For all he knew, it could be poisoned, or drugged. Turning his attention to Zagine, instead of drinking, he continued to glare malice at the man across the table from him.

"Drink it."

He turned away, crossing his arms of his chest and replying indignantly,

"I don't want it."

"Its milk. It'll help you get stronger. That's what you want, isn't it? Revenge for your parents?"

The gears of the orphaned boy's mind were working overtime, finding truth in the older mans words. His intense ochre gaze once again shifted to the mug in front of him, tantalizing him, antagonizing him. Without speaking, his hand darted out and grasped the cup for a few moments before bringing it up to his mouth, allowing the creamy white liquid to spill onto his tongue for the first time. _It'll help you get stronger. _Without pausing to hesitate, he had drained the whole thing in a matter of seconds.

**ZAGINE'S DEATH**

The brown shopping bag landed on the concrete with a clatter, its contents spilling out onto the empty alleyway. The boy stared in bewilderment at the man that was leaning on the wall before him, bleeding heavily. The rain pelted down on them, despite the fact that the child was holding an umbrella. His amber eyes were round with shock, and it took him a few moments before he could form words.

"W-Why are you covered in blood?"

His question was directed about the blood that was forming a scarlet pool around him, staining his black poncho. The young child's brain couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"It seems y-you're going to be by yourself n-now, kid."

"What?!" This time it was the umbrella that fell to the ground. "You're my goal! You can't die yet!"

A soft chuckle emitted from the man, breaking through the pouring rain and darkness that surrounded them.

"I see. You do want revenge for your parents. Well, if you want to avenge them, kill me, and live life on your own. Don't trust anyone…but yourself…"

His voice was becoming weaker, more strained as he fought to hold on to what little life he had left. His dirty blonde hair was not stringy and flattened against his face from the rain pelting down on them. The gun that he had been holding dropped from his hand, landing by the child's feet.

Said boy bent down and picked up the lethal weapon, staring at it with foreboding, contemplating whether or not to unleash his fury on the dying man. Finally, after a few minutes of indecision, he made up his mind, cocking the gun before getting lost in his own grief, yelling as he shot the man time and time again. He was so caught up that he did not hear the dying words of Zagine that were spoken with his last and final breath,

"…You shall become a killer, Train Heartnet, the best this world has ever known."

**Well, I hope you liked it! Thanks to **_BlackCatTrain _**for** **adding my story to his/her Story Alert list! This one was a little longer, 1,129 words this time!**

**Don't forget to review!**


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